If a woman writes a poem and no man reads it, is it still a poem?
My fingers are sore from counting today. Mind too.
Better not strain myself. Go back to reading and admiring which
after all is what we women do.
On the reading block:
Lyn Tillman, This Is Not It (wow)
Rachel Blau Duplessis, The Pink Guitar
Susan Howe, My Emily Dickinson
Laura Sims, Practice, Restraint
Happily, Lyn Hejinian
The American Tree, ed. Ron Silliman
The Making of Americans, Gertrude Stein, intro by William Gass
Discovered the book, War and Peace ed. Judith Goldman and Leslie Scalpino, thinking about Sontag's assumption in Regarding the Pain of Others that we can't get outside of war. What does this have to do with Polanski's Chinatown? Something about what we can't think outside of, even those who spend much of their lives thinking, still inside it.
Still about women's bodies. Faye Dunaway. Did she ever finish a movie alive? The older I get the more feminist I become....